


Let's Go Howl At The Moon

by gaialux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean Winchester, Dominance, M/M, Mild Painplay, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-22 01:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2489255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"See what I see. Feel what I feel. And let's go take a howl at that moon."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Go Howl At The Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Because weird pairings are fun sometimes *g*? Plus we all know Crowley was/is totally in love with Dean. Takes place shortly following season 9, with spoilers up to 10x01. Former wincest (and, in that same vein, implied infidelity). Mostly PWP.

Seeing Squirrel as a demon wasn't something Crowley ever expected. Sure, he'd spent time in Hell. He went up on that rack like everyone else before him (and, for a time, after him -- but Crowley's improved efficiency for that by a tenfold). But really seeing those black stained eyes was something else entirely.

And Crowley, well, he liked it.

For once, Dean was thinking for himself. He didn't have Moose prattling off literature at every little bump in the night. Without his brother, Dean was better at his job; he could take that blade and swing it at anyone, perfect slash every time.

If anything, Crowley had done them  _both_ a favour. Now Moose could focus on being a bona fide Man of Letters, and Dean could finally give into that dark side which had been growing and growing every since he kissed his co-worker on the lips and sealed that deal. So what if Crowley also got a little something out of it? He never claimed to be altruistic.

 

* * *

 

They hit a lot of different bars over the course of a month. Dean getting into fights at each of them, drinking his weight in cheap beer and fucking his way through every waitress who bat her eyelids at him. Crowley supposed it must be true: girls do like a bad (or, in this case, _evil_ ) boy.

Soon enough Dean picked up karaoke. Cheesy love ballads sang off-key that made Crowley leave the bar and wait outside, still conducting business --

"No, I bloody well don't want you to get rid of the queue."

"But sir--"

"But  _nothing_. Just keeps things as they are until I get back, okay?" No pause. "It better be okay."

\-- before deciding that rock-star-wannabe had finally become intoxicated enough to step off the stage and give the other half-wits a go. Crowley helped steer him into the water-stained and moth-eaten room they were renting out for the night and dropped him onto the bed.

"You can't keep just doing this," Crowley said. "When I said 'howl at the moon' I meant more than staying up until midnight to get pissed off your bloody nuts."

Dean groaned something unintelligible but opened one eyelid enough for Crowley to see the original white and green with only pupil black.

"I don't know how well you remember with this lifestyle you've taken up," Crowley said. "But you're a demon now."

A smirk curled at the corners of Dean's lips. "You think I don't know that?"

"Hard to tell."

Dean quickly sat up again and his hand dropped down to his belt, tugging out Cain's blade. He held it up. Twisted it in front of his eyes as Crowley watched each detail catch on a different segment of light from the weak-watted bulb in the bedside lamp.

"I know," Dean said before putting it back. "Believe me, I know."

"And what about Sam?" He knew it came out of nowhere, that it was a cheap-shot even if it ended well. But that was the final test, wasn't it? Seeing if the two Winchester brothers had finally cut their seemingly inseparable chord.

All Dean did in response was yawn. "What about him?"

As Dean was so fond of saying: _Yahztee_.

"Oh, I don't know," Crowley did decide to humour. He got up on the bed next to Dean, leaning back on the headboard and watching him from the bottom of his eyes. Dean stayed mostly still, eyes closed and blade still stuck in his belt. "Just thought over thirty years together, he might mean a little more to you."

"Yeah, well." Dean's eyes didn't even open. "People divorce, don't they?"

"True, true." Crowley smiled. "Divorce of the Winchester brothers. You should book a movie deal with that -- sold their souls, saved the world, and in the end they divorced. Not sure how many tickets you'd sell, but the plot's there."

"Shut up," Dean said, but it didn't sound angry. More annoyed -- tired.

"And the actors," he added. "We could use that, you know."

Dean's eyes slotted open. "Use what?"

"Your good looks, your charm." He cast a hand in Dean's direction. "That mark makes you want to kill, your face makes it easy."

"Oh, you mean this?" Dean's eyes came fully open then and then flickered to the black. The  _default_ state, it should be. With just a little bit of time Crowley knew he could make that happen.

"That's part of it," Crowley said.

Dean's eyes stayed dark even as Crowley watched. Not focusing on anything, just being there. It didn't even take the rack this time to make Dean the way he was. Just a weapon and that darkness inside him. It's not like Crowley hadn't seen it from their first meeting. There was always something extra inside Dean.

"You and Moose were never as good at hiding it as you thought," Crowley continued. "I even knew locked in that cellar."

"It wasn't a cellar," Dean muttered. His eyes closed again.

Crowley tried for a sigh but it came out more as a growl. "You're missing the point entirely."

"What do you want, Crowley?" There was that petulant annoyance again, seeping into every word. "That you throwing around co-dependent isn't -- sorry,  _wasn't_ \-- so far off the mark?"

Crowley grinned. "At least you can admit it."

"Not much left to leave me hell-bound, is there?"

"Hey," Crowley said. "You should be  _thanking_ me -- there's a seat right by my throne for you when we go back downstairs."

Dean might have said "pass" or he might have said "bite me" or he might have said nothing at all, but Crowley decided not to listen. Dean would come around to it eventually, just like all the other doomed souls. It even took less than the thirty years this time.

"Whether or not you like it, Dean," Crowley said. "I'm your new partner, your new camarad."

That time it was definitely a "bite me."

"You mustn't hate it so much," Crowley said. He leant down closer and Dean didn't move. "You're still here, aren't you?"

No answer. If Dean's breathing weren't still so fast, Crowley might have thought he'd fallen asleep. Instead, he leant down closer and waited to see if those eyes would open again to black or to green. It was becoming almost like a test at this point. One Crowley didn't want to lose.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked without opening his eyes.

Crowley smiled. "Just seeing how loyal you are."

Dean's eyes came open green. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Good to know you listen."

Maybe his time in Hell had left Crowley not understanding boundaries or rules or _morals_ , but he was quite sure Dean should be pushing him away. Not looking up at him and leaving Crowley feeling as though he was missing something here. Dean better be telling the truth -- Crowley was still the King of Hell. He was still the one in charge. And he could end Dean with nothing more than a click of his fingers.

His hand didn't move.

"If you don't think I'm loyal," Dean said, and he still had warm breath. Strange. "Then what are _you_ doing staying here?"

Dean still didn't move when Crowley shifted his leg so it was pressed against Dean's. He also didn't move when Crowley's arm wrapped around the Mark of Cain. It was warmer than Dean's breath -- _hot_ , _boiling_. It seared through everything.

"Because of that?" Dean asked.

 _Yes,_ Crowley thought. _Because of that._ Only he doesn't say that. He just twists his hand tighter around the Mark until Dean's glaring at him with eyes black again.

"What do you want?" Dean asked.

"Nothing," Crowley said.

 "You drag me he--"

"--I didn't 'drag you here'," Crowley said. "You came on your own free will, Dean."

That part was true. No matter what Crowley may have helped twist and tweak, Dean had left that bed on his own feet with his own mind. Crowley was simply helping him along.

"Whatever," Dean said. "You wanted me here and you've given me nothing...demon-y...to do. So I gotta ask you again: _What do you want?_ "

The answer seemed best to be told in a way only Dean Winchester would; Crowley cleared the small distance between their faces and opened his lips against Dean's.

Crowley hadn't particularly thought this all the way through. Not beyond testing to see just how far Dean had gone. But it wasn't overly surprising when Crowley felt Dean press back against him.

 _Well done_ , was what first came to mind.  _He'll do anything now._

"Really?" Dean did pull back and ask. " _This?_ "

Crowley shrugged. "You can't tell me it's any more depraved that what you and Sammy used to get up to in those rooms."

At Sam's name, Crowley swore he saw a flicker of colour in Dean's eyes. Then it was gone just as quickly as it came. "You get off on that or something?"

"You had my locked away in a basement," Crowley said. "Had to do something to pass the time."

Dean didn't give a retort to that. He leaned back up and caught Crowley's mouth again. Crowley had always wondered, somewhere in the back of his mind, what this would feel like. Expectation (for once) does manage to pretty well live up to the reality. Only this Dean was more demanding, which Crowley attributed to the being a demon. More positives. No matter what happened, it looked like Dean would be here.

Dean's hand slid to the front of Crowley's trousers and, okay, Crowley is willing to admit here that he's surprised now. That Dean would be so  _forthcoming_ about all of this. He had figured there was still a lot going on in that boy's head -- even beyond the desire to kill.

"Well," Dean said between the touch of mouths. "You might as well have it."

Not exactly the seduction Crowley was going for, but he'll take it. "Get on with it, then."

Dean tore off his own shirt first, and the Mark of Cain was even more visible. "Or is  _that_ what you get off on?" Dean asked and twisted the mark closer. The sword went to the bedside table.

Crowley didn't answer. His hand went back on the Mark and the other to Dean's belt, unbuckling it and pulling the leather through the loops. Dean let him. Pliant. Pealing off clothes until he was naked and hovering over Crowley. Crowley hadn't even realised how Dean got the upper hand like that, but he bit his tongue and held down his hands instead of fighting back.

"I'd say it's a little unequal," Dean said. He tugged at the collar of Crowley's shirt. "Don't you?"

Right. No more playing Dean's puppet (even in one, specific scenario). Crowley hooked his leg behind Dean and caught him off balance so they were switched again: Dean below, Crowley above. Then Crowley could take off his tie, unbutton his shirt, and try to further decipher whether the look on Dean's face was a smile or a smirk. At least until Dean reached down and grasped Crowley's dick and it didn't really matter anymore.

"God," Dean said. "Doesn't take much, does it? If I'd known earlier--"

Crowley cut him off with a tug at his hair. Dean let out something akin to a growl and bit into the side of Crowley's neck. It was more sensation than pain, but made the Mark heated up against Crowley's hand and Dean rutted against him in response.

"Seems I'm not the only one," Crowley said.

Dean looked Crowley in the eye again and pulled his trousers down to his knees. Crowley decided not to help him along; wanted to see just how far Dean was willing to go. "I'm going to fuck you?"

There was enough for a question there that Crowley decided to answer. "I suppose so."

Dean reached over to the battered bedside table and after a few yanks of the top drawer managed to pull it open after three attempts."We couldn't have splurged a little more?" he asked. He turned his head back to Crowley while still rummaging around inside, eyes that thick black.

"You chose it," Crowley replied. His palm ran down his dick, somewhat absent-mindedly as he watched Dean. "Said it was the best karaoke bar in the state."

"Bingo." He still sounded like Dean with the same words and inflections. The demon thing worked for him, mixed itself well with everything Dean already was. Dean tore open the condom and turned fully back to Crowley. "And you picked the state."

"I don't care." And Crowley didn't. Not at all. Right now he was more focused on Dean pressed hard against him with eyes darker than the lowest pits of Hell.

"Fine," Dean said. He reached down to his own dick and rolled the condom on, followed with the lube and Crowley just kept watching. Dean had done this with all those women -- and with his own bloody brother for Christ's sake. Yet here Crowley was, waiting to be fucked by the new Cain.

Exhilarating really.

The way Dean acted was a challenge. Crowley knew that. Every movement from the way he rested one hand on Crowley's hip and the other working him open. Dean wasn't really looking at him, not properly, and Crowley thought it was just as likely due to his being a demon as it was because he was a man other than Sam.

"Dean," he said. Just to fuck with Dean's concentration.

"Shut up." Dean's face snapped to stare at him. "You want this or not?"

Crowley let (always  _let_ ) Dean push him to his back. Then one further look told Crowley this wasn't something where they gaze into each other's eyes, move in slow synchronised thrusts, and wait for the piano music to sway and fade out -- so he rolled onto his stomach and could almost  _feel_ Dean immediately relax.

"You...okay?" Now Crowley could  _hear_ the cringe in Dean's voice.

"Come on," he snapped back. His dick trapped between body and bed growing ever incessant for further attention.

"All right," Dean said, and Crowley was pretty sure it was only to himself. His hand is back against Crowley's arse and there was one beat, two before he was pushing inside.

It was different, sex in a vessel on the surface. The feelings weren't as attuned or intense. A trade-off, he supposed, and something not worth complaining about. Not when it happened to be  _Dean Winchester_ hovering above him, committing every sin left worth committing.

Dean pulled almost all the way out, dick stretching Crowley out, before thrusting back in. His breath becoming more ragged against Crowley's ear each time and Crowley realising that Dean could breathe. Was still human enough for things like that; for things Crowley could do but had decided to forgo because they weren't needed any more. A waste of time.

The next surprise of the night came when Dean worked a hand between Crowley and the bed. Squeezed his dick and bit down on his shoulder again. Crowley knew there would be a bruise at least, maybe even blood when Dean's tongue darted out over the wound. The Mark was hot where it rested against Crowley's shoulder. When Dean further picked up the pace of his thrusts, Crowley could feel it burning.

 _It's not Dean_ , was a thought that came to Crowley soon enough.  _It talks like Dean and sometimes even acts like Dean, but it _'_ s not Dean._

The thought, if it even did anything, spurred Crowley on with the realisation that only the worst parts of Dean had been taken. The useful parts still remained. The parts that Crowley could mould and twist to create one of the best demons Hell had ever seen. Dean really would outdo his master; Alistair would finally be replaced. He met Dean's movements until Dean stilled against him, hands moving to grip Crowley's hips.

"Fuck." It was the first word Dean had uttered since they started.

Dean's hand sped up on Crowley's dick and the orgasm hit Crowley, stronger than any other in this vessel. Maybe because he'd corrupted the so-called righteous man.

Yeah, that must have been it.

 

* * *

 

"Well, Dean," Crowley said. He kept his eyes on the ceiling rather than looking over. There would be plenty of time for that later. "Was that as good for you as it was for me?"

"Bite me."


End file.
